Chapter 817

"Good morning, Weasley," Kingsley said cautiously as they approached. "Do you have a second? I have something to say to you."

"Yes, for a second," Mr. Weasley said, "I'm a little busy now." They were talking, but it seemed difficult to communicate, and when Harry wanted to say hello to kensley, Mr. Weasley stepped on Harry's foot. They followed Kingsley all the way in to one of the innermost rooms.

To Harry's surprise, there are so many photos here that they look like a reference room. Even Harry found a picture of Sirius in the corner.

"Here," Kingsley said roughly to Mr. Weasley, putting a bundle of parchment into Mr. Weasley's hand.

"Over the past 12 months, I've collected as much information as I can about the Muggle flight engine. We have received reports that Blake is still using his old motorcycle

Kingsley winked at Harry a few times, then added in a whisper, "give him that magazine, and he'll find it interesting."

Then he said in his normal tone, "don't delay too long, Weasley. The delay in that ham report took us a month to investigate."

"If you read my report, you should know it's an arm of fire," Mr. Weasley said coldly. "And I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the news of the motorcycle. We're busy at the moment."

He said in a low voice, "Molly made meatballs if you can leave before seven o'clock."

It looks like an agent's secret deal. Although Harry doesn't know what it means to have Sirius in a corner of Auror's office, it's interesting that the Ministry of magic will embarrass Sirius for an unrelated Muggle item?

Or

The motorcycle belongs to Hagrid

He took Harry out of Kingsley's single room, through the second oak door, into another unit, left, through the next corridor, and then right into a dimly lit, obviously shabby corridor. Finally, they reached a dead end, with a slightly open door on their left, an open broom cabinet, and on the right, a nasty, tarnished brass sign reading, "improper use of Muggle items office.".

Mr. Weasley's untidy office looks a little smaller than the broom cabinet opposite. Two desks were crowded inside, and a line of cupboards filled with stuff was placed near the wall. The space in the middle was just enough for them to get through. At the top of each cabinet, there were a large number of documents. In the small space left on the wall lay a few things that fascinate Mr. Weasley: pictures of a car, including a dismantled engine, two illustrations of a mailbox cut from a Muggle child's book, and a diagram showing how to wind the socket.

On the desk opposite Mr. Weasley's desk was a picture of an old drunkard, burping moodily and playing with an empty pair of leather gloves on his thumb. Next to the plate was a picture of the Weasleys.

Harry noticed that Percy seemed to have walked away from it.

"We don't have windows here," Mr. Weasley said apologetically. He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. "We applied, but they didn't seem to think we needed a window here, Harry. Stop looking. Perkins hasn't come yet."

While Mr. Weasley was reading the parchment Kingsley had just handed him, Harry was squeezing himself into the chair behind Perkins' desk.

"Ha," Weasley chuckled after picking something from a magazine called nitpicking. "Yes, he's right. I'm sure Sirius will find it interesting - Oh, honey, what time is it?"

An internal email just flew in through the open door and landed on the picture of the burping alcoholic. Mr. Weasley opened the letter and read it aloud.

"Bisnar green reports on the third public toilet that returns. It's ridiculous "

" a backflow bathroom? "

"Anti Muggle jokes," Mr. Weasley said, frowning. "We dealt with two last week, one in Wimbledon and one in elephant castle. The Muggle was just about to flush when everything was gone - yes, you can imagine. All this crap keeps coming up - I think they should call plumbers - you know, those who fix pipes. "

"Plumber?"

"Right, yes, of course they will be in a mess, just hope we can catch a few of the perpetrators."

"Won't Auror go after them?"

"Oh, no, these things are too trivial to disturb Auror. It's under the jurisdiction of the general magic law enforcement Patrol - ah, Harry, this is Perkins."

A hunchback, shy looking old wizard came into the room. He had a white beard and was panting.

"Oh, Arthur He didn't look at Harry and screamed, "thank God, I don't know what's best to do with this, whether I'm going to wait for you. I've just sent an owl to your house, but apparently you didn't get it -- an urgent letter ten minutes ago -- ""I know, it's about the return toilet," Mr. Weasley said.

"No, no, it's about Porter's son's hearing - they've changed the time and place - it's now eight o'clock, in the old courtroom 10 downstairs -"

"in the ten downstairs But they told me - Merlin's beard! Mr. Weasley looked at his watch, let out a scream and jumped out of his chair. "Come on, Harry, we should have been there five minutes ago!"

Perkins stuck his back to the cupboard to let Mr. Weasley run out of the office, and Harry followed.

"Why do they change the time?" Harry gasped as they passed through Auror's room. People turned their heads aside and watched them pass quickly. Harry felt all his feelings were still at Perkins' desk.

"I don't know, but thank God we're here early enough. If you miss the hearing, the consequences will be disastrous!" Mr. Weasley braked in front of an elevator and jabbed nervously at the descent button.

"Come on The elevator clicks into view, and they quickly run in. Every time the elevator stopped, Mr. Weasley swore angrily and smashed the buttons on the ninth floor with his fist.

"Those courtrooms have not been used for many years," Mr. Weasley said angrily. "I can't think of why they held hearings there - unless - but not --"

just then, a fat witch walked into the elevator with a smoking goblet, and Mr. Weasley didn't look at her carefully.

"Middle hall," said the cold girl, and the golden lattice door opened, and Harry glanced at the fountain with the golden statue in the distance. The fat witch went out, and at the same time a vegetable skin wizard with sad face came in.

"Good morning, Arthur," he said in a burying tone as the elevator began to descend. "You're not always seen coming down here."

"Urgent business, Bodie," said Mr. Weasley, stamping his feet anxiously and looking at Harry with concern.

"Ah, yes," Bodie looked at Harry without blinking. "Of course."

Harry is hardly in the mood to deal with Bodie now, and his unblinking gaze will not make Harry feel more comfortable.

"Mystery department," she said, and the door opened. "Come on, Harry," Mr. Weasley said as the irritating elevator door opened.

They ran quickly across a corridor. This corridor looks completely different from the one above. The walls were bare, there were no windows or doors, only a black picture of the grassland at the end of the corridor.

Harry thought they were going to get out of here, but Mr. Weasley grabbed his hand and pulled him to the left, where there was an open stair step.

"Down here, down here," exclaimed Mr. Weasley, panting, as he dashed down two steps at a time.

"The elevator can't go down so far. Why are they doing this here? I'm..."

They ran to the bottom of the stairs and ran along another corridor, which had many unpleasant similarities to Snape's Dungeon at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and Wizardry.

Both have rough stone walls and flares protruding from the walls. Here they passed heavy wooden doors with iron bolts and keyholes.

"Court 10, I think we're almost there Yes Mr. Weasley slammed on the brakes in front of a dirty, black door with a big lock. He leaned against the wall, tired and clutching his chest.

"Go in," he panted, and thumbed the door,

"that's it."

"No - won't you come in with me?"

"No, no, I'm not allowed to enter, but don't worry. As I said before, you didn't do anything wrong, but I have to remind you not to say unnecessary words during the trial, which is good for you. What they ask, you just need to answer truthfully. After all, we have nothing to be afraid of Good luck

Harry nodded, and his chest heaved violently twice, as if to calm himself down and digest what was taught him.

But it didn't seem to work, at least that's what Harry thought. No thought worked when faced with this old door.

Harry felt his heart throbbing to his throat. His mouth was dry and he had difficulty swallowing. He turned the heavy iron doorknob and walked into the courtroom.

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